


Big Feelings Time

by deyinger



Category: The Dragon Prince, The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Also a little Rayllum, And I really needed to see these two interact, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Mainly Soren angst because I didn't get enough, My First Fanfic, Season/Series 03, So... here we go, Spoilers, They deserved a chance to clear the air like Callum and Soren did, because I cannot help myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-20 08:41:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22181182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deyinger/pseuds/deyinger
Summary: Rayla catches Soren in a quiet moment at the Storm Spire, and they get a chance to clear the air between them.
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Rayla & Soren (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 108





	Big Feelings Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gabzelpygeon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabzelpygeon/gifts), [madzeldacryaotic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madzeldacryaotic/gifts).



> This is actually part two? Part one is of yet incomplete, but this reads well as a stand-alone. I made a note of it in the end to clear stuff up.
> 
> This is also my first fic here - or anywhere, really - so... 
> 
> Hope you like it!

When the Moon shone in the sky, and its light and magic seeped down onto the earth, Rayla felt it in her veins. It was strength and speed and being alive. It begged her to take to the trees, to run until her legs wouldn’t let her go any further and shout at the stars. Moonshadow elves weren’t meant for sleeping through the night. During her trek with the princes across Katolis, she’d adapted to their diurnal sleeping schedule well enough. But now that she was back in Xadia, where the land’s magic bled into her, she’d gone back to sleepless nights. Especially at the Storm Spire, where she was so close to the sky she felt she could reach out and touch the Moon; her blood burned. She was exhausted, but another hour laying awake in bed would have driven her insane. 

Getting out of bed had been a task in and of itself. It had taken every fiber in her being to leave Callum’s side – and to untangle herself from him without waking him – but she was anxious to move, run, jump, do _something_.

Now that she stood outside, stretching, relishing in the Moon’s cold silver light, she let out a sigh of relief. Then she heard noises coming from the armory and her arms shot to her blades. The Storm Spire was the safest place to be, she knew, and it would be safe for a while still. But after a month, the reflex had become second nature. 

Curious, she approached the source of the noise. She sneaked into the armory, and just as she crossed the threshold she heard a familiar satisfied giggle, and the tension in her shoulders melted away. 

Soren sat on the floor, his armor scattered around him, humming to himself and scratching at his beard as he polished his breastplate with an oiled rag. It was the first time Rayla had seen him out of armor, and it gave her pause. _He’s vulnerable_ , a small voice hissed in the back of her head. She had to shake it away and remind herself that was a friend now.

He wasn’t wearing his black linens. They lay on a neat pile next to him, most likely washed and mended; they’d been in rough shape when he’d arrived at the Storm Spire. Instead, he wore the light blue linens of the Dragonguard, borrowed from the armor stand that stood naked a few steps away. It was a tad big for him, but it was still clear just how brawny he was. He was broad-chested and thick-limbed, and Rayla couldn’t help but stare.

It was a curious thing. To her, he seemed both big and small at the same time. He was far from the pompous dolt who had tried to kill her just a few weeks ago. She would never admit it, but during his and his sister’s stay at the Cursed Caldera, he’d terrified her. All muscle and armor and a condescending grin, and absolutely no qualms about running her through with his longsword. But there was not a trace of that smirking brute as Soren polished down his breastplate. His small smile was gentle. Sweet, even. 

And she remembered a secret moment she’d watched from behind a shadow; Soren sobbing into Ezran’s hair, melting into his king’s small hands. 

And before she realized she’d padded over to where he sat and greeted him.

“Ye’re up late," she said.

Soren yelped, nearly jumping out of his skin in surprise. He turned to her with wild eyes, “Wow! Uh, ha! Hey!” he scratched the back of his head, his smile melting away when she raised an eyebrow, “Ha, ha, ah...You're, uh, really quiet." 

"Yeah,” she smirked, arms crossed. 

“Yeah, ha, ha… So, uhm…” he smacks his lips, “Did you need something?” 

“Nope.”

Soren blinked, expectantly, but she just stared back at him blankly. He made a popping sound with his mouth, “Uh-huh, okay. That’s, uh, that’s fine.” 

There was a silence.

“Can’t sleep?” Soren asked. 

“Nah. You?”

“Nope.” He shot her a light smile, "Rayla, right?”

“Yeah.”

"I'm Soren."

"I know."

“Yeah. Yeah, I know you know. I just... I- it...” he bit his lip, then shrugged. “I don’t know. Nevermind.” He turned away from her, shoulders hitched. 

Another silence, and Rayla was sure he was going to sink into the ground and let it swallow him up in shame before she smiled. "Nice to meet you, Soren,” she said. 

He turned to her, shocked, before a smile spread across his face. "Nice to meet you, too." 

She stepped towards him. It must not have been what he expected, because he almost flinched before scooting to his side to make room for her. Rayla sat down beside him and watched him work away at his gear. 

One look and it was clear he’d been hard at work. His armor was in much better shape than it had been that morning. He’d cleaned off most of the dirt and grime on it and hammered out the largest dents in his breastplate. He’d even sealed some of the chinks in the metal with wax. He was polishing his breastplate now, rubbing it down with an oily rag and giving it a silver shine. 

Rayla frowned. The sight of full armor was still a strange one to her. Moonshadow elves seldom armored themselves in metal, favoring boiled leathers and the occasional metal shoulder or armguard. It kept their movements swift and quiet. She’d never understood why humans chose to lumber around in huge metal boxes. She’d always found them ridiculous, until the day she’d brought her blade down on Soren in the Cursed Caldera and he’d simply caught it under his armpit. Since then, she was less prone to jeers. 

Her eyes drifted to the sword at Soren’s side. 

“Can I?” she asks, jerking her chin at it.

He gave her a puzzled look, and when he followed her gaze to his sword, he blinked. “Uh, yeah,” he said, hesitantly. “Yeah, sure.” 

He grabbed the scabbard by its throat and presented the sword’s grip to her. She unsheathed it, the blade singing as she did so. It was obvious Soren had just finished maintaining it. It was spotless and sharp, and she could see her reflection on it like a mirror. 

Human weapons were even stranger than armor. They were so… simple. They lacked the gadgetry and intricate designs elven weapons had. _It’s not like they need it_ , Rayla thought. Most of those designs were runes and enchantments, which humans couldn’t make. It made sense for their blades to be so stark. But even then, the metal itself was plain. Moonshadow blades all shared a distinctive rippled pattern, born from steel being folded back on itself and fused together many, many times. It made the blades sharp, strong, and alive. When they caught the light, it danced around the swirls, and the pale white metal seemed to churn like flowing water.

Still, she didn’t find the human sword in her hands ugly. Only strange in its simplicity, and intimidating in its own way. 

Her arm had grown tired holding it. "It’s heavy,” she said. 

“Yeah, well,” Soren grinned, “That's what these bad boys are for.” He flexed his arm with a wink and a click of his tongue.

Rayla blinked, but when his smile slowly disappeared into a grimace, she laughed. “It makes ye slow,” she said, handing him his sword back. 

"It makes me strong.” 

"I s’pose,” Rayla drawled as he slid the sword back into its scabbard. “But what's strength good for if my knife’s at yer throat in the blink of an eye?"

“Well, that’s why it’s so long,” he patted it proudly. “So you never get the chance to get so close.” 

Rayla nodded, thoughtful. That hadn’t been a challenge, but Rayla couldn’t help herself. In a beat she’d unclipped a sword from her jacket and unfolded it with a flick of her wrist, bringing the blade inches away from Soren’s throat. He could only yelp in surprise.

He stared back at her wide-eyed, fear written across his face. But she winked at him, and with a twirl presented the sword’s handles to him. He laughed with a gulp and took the sword in his hands. “I, uh, see your point.” He held it delicately in his hands for a moment, then tossed it gently up and down. “It’s so light.”

“So I can be quick.”

Soren hummed in agreement, mesmerized, and turned the blade so it caught the light. “Wow,” he breathed, carefully running his finger along the edge of it, “It’s so beautiful.” His eyes traced the swirls of the metal. 

The admiration in his eyes made Rayla’s chest swell with pride. 

“How, uh…?” he turned to her, “That thing you do, where you turn ‘em into hooks. How do you do that?”

“Oh, I’ve no idea,” she chimed, taking the sword from his hands. “I just spin it like so, and…” With a well-practiced spin of her hand, she folded the blade closed and snapped the sword into its hooked position. “Ta-da! Hook-blade!”

Soren gasped and took the hook-blade in his hands. “Oh, ho, ho, that’s so awesome,” he chortled. Carefully, he folded and unfolded the handles, watching the hook recede in and out. “The engineering in this thing is insane!” he laughed. “Who even comes up with this stuff?” 

He did it faster and faster, the hook coming inches from his face, and when Rayla saw him shift his grip on it and angle his arm, she grabbed his hand before he could attempt to flip the hook back into a sword. 

“Alright, alright,” she said, “Don’t go cuttin’ yerself, now.”

“Ha! No, no, no, you’re right,” he beamed. Carefully, he folded the handles to hide the hook and handed the blade back to Rayla, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” she smiled. 

They sat in silence for a few moments, and Soren returned to polishing down his breastplate. Why, though, Rayla wasn’t sure. It was already spotless, and the nicks in it were all taken care of. Then she saw Soren grin at his own reflection on it, and she scoffed. 

Faking a yawn, she clipped her folded blade back on her jacket. “Well,” she said, standing up, “It’s late. I think I’ll–”

“Wait! There’s, uh…” he seemed to lose his words when Rayla turned around to meet his eyes. He gulped. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Her brow furrowed, and she sat back down beside him. “What is it?”

“It’s, uhm… I…” Soren bit his lip, then closed his eyes tight. He took a deep breath and let it out, flapping his lips with a high-pitched noise. “Come on, Soren,” he muttered to himself. “S’just like you practiced.”

When he turned to her, and she saw the hurt in his eyes, her breath hitched. 

“Rayla,” he started. A breath, and the words poured out of him. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m so, so, sorry. Sorry for everything. I’m sorry for what I’ve said and done and tried to do to you and the princes. ‘Cause I, I did– I did _terrible_ things. I tried to kill you, I tried to kill Ellis, I…” His voice broke, and he looked away when he whispered, “I tried to… kill Ezran. I mean, you knew that, obviously, you– because you stopped me, so… Thank you. And sorry you even had to do that,” he started to laugh, but it was cut short by a sob. “And you don’t have to forgive me. I don’t– You don’t owe me anything. Not your forgiveness, not your trust. But… I hope… I can earn them.” 

He was silent for a while, eyes fixed on a spot in the floor, trembling. And then he sniffed, and wiped at his face with his hand, and it was like someone had wrapped their fist around Rayla’s throat. She knew what he was feeling all too well. Like he was the vilest creature in the world. Afterall, she’d met the princes on a mission to assassinate them and their father, and she’d kept the truth of their father’s death for weeks. They had every right to be furious at her. To yell or scream or even want to hurt her. But they’d forgiven her anyway. They’d even loved her. 

The princes would forgive Soren. Of that she was certain. But he wasn’t asking for their forgiveness. He was asking for _hers_. 

Her eyes stung. He’d hurt her at the Caldera. Bad. She still had bruises from when they’d fought, and her side still hurt where he’d kicked her. Worse, he’d hurt Ezran and Callum. But if the world wanted to know peace, it would have to forgive. And if Rayla believed it could – and she did; with every fiber of her being, she did – then she would have to forgive, too. 

She put a hand to Soren’s shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. He looked up at her with tears in his eyes. “Oh,” she said, a soft smile on her lips, “I’m sure ye’ll find a way to.” 

Soren blinked, as if unsure she was being truthful or not. But she nodded, and a smiled spread across his face. Then he laughed a relieved laugh, and happily wiped the tears from his face before holding his arms out wide.

“Hug?”

“Eh,” Rayla said, leaning away ever so slightly, “We’re not quite there yet.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, no. You’re right. Getting ahead of myself there. Ha!” He sniffled again and let out another laugh. “I should, ah, call it a night, right?” 

Wiping his face one last time, he wrapped his Crownguard cape around his armor like a bag. He swung it over his shoulder effortlessly, though Rayla knew his armor was heavy. “Uhm. Thanks for, y’know… listening, I guess.”

“Good night, Soren.”

“Good night.”

They shared a smile, Soren’s so wide Rayla half expected the top of his head to roll right off. But his blue eyes twinkled, and her cheeks burned. With a small bow, he turned and left in a hurry, muttering happily as he scurried out of the room. Then Rayla was alone on the cold armory floor, amidst dust and seeping moonlight, and the arms and weapons of heroes and traitors. She sat there a while, until her heart couldn’t bear the way the periwinkle breastplate gleamed like it did when Mum wore it. She didn’t cry, though; she’d cried plenty for them. There were no tears left in her, not for a while. But her eyes stung just the same. 

“Right,” she rubbed them with a sigh, “That’s enough o’ that.”

She sprung to her feet and brushed herself off. A yawn snuck up on her, and it was a welcome thing. The day had been long and her limbs were leaden, yet sleep had evaded her until now. She could use the rest.

When Rayla reached the room she and the boys shared, she opened the door carefully so as to not wake the sleeping princes inside. Callum and Ezran lay fast asleep on the oversized bed in the middle of the room, their backs pressed together and Bait curled up at Ezran’s stomach. Callum’s arms were spread to his side, towards the empty space Rayla had been in. 

The sight left her stomach in knots. 

Catlike, she crawled to her place beside Callum. She’d barely settled in place when he reacted to her weight, mumbling sleepily as he reached towards her and wrapped his arms around her. Rayla tittered and planted a soft kiss on his cheek before laying at his side, eyes fixed on the sight of him. His eyelids fluttered, and he whistled through his nose as he slept.

Her heart swelled. She wondered if she’d ever get used to this. To him. To being wrapped up in his arms and knowing she belonged there. She hoped she would, because she loved all of it.

Rayla stared at him until sleep crept up on her, and she drifted off to the sound of his breathing.

**Author's Note:**

> The ‘secret moment’ Rayla remembers is the first part of Big Feelings Time. It’s a similar heartfelt moment between Soren and Ezran that I have planned, but this one came together faster than that one, so I posted part two before part one. I hope to finish it up sometime, and I'll post it for sure.


End file.
